


Fallen Hero: Multiple Works

by Cheion



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheion/pseuds/Cheion
Summary: A collection of fanfics for Fallen Hero, all collated in a single place.





	1. Fluff, ChargeStep. Sidestep judo-flips Ortega.

_I just had to write something when I saw the ask about Sidestep being surprised by Ortega and accidentally judo flipping them, with Ortega going “damn that’s hot”_

_Forgive any inconsistencies as I don’t do judo, and any typos as well cause I’m writing this on mobile at 1.30am._

_First fic for the Fallen Hero verse! I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

“Hey Sidestep! Do you- whoa!” Ortega’s voice cuts off into an undignified yelp as they tumble over your shoulder and slam into the ground.

It’s not your fault of course. You’ve warned Ortega countless times  _not_  to sneak up on you, especially when your guard is down.

And what do they do? That’s right.

Sneak up on you.

Before your mind even registers that the one that tapped you on the shoulder is Ortega, you’ve grabbed their arms and judo flipped them over your shoulder with practiced ease. You both sprawl into a heap on the ground, you on top of Ortega, the both of you breathing heavily.

“Damn,” they exhale after a short silence. “That’s hot.” That stupid smile is back on their face. Is it actually growing wider? Any bigger than it already is and it will be larger than their face. Can anyone even smile that wide? Is it even humanly possible?

Right. Of course it is. This is  _Ortega_  you’re talking about.

“Why are you still smiling?” you grumble as you glare at them. If anything, your words only serve to brighten their smile. “Because you’re still sitting on me? And…” their voice trails off innocently, their eyes twinkling as they raise their arm - which is still entangled in your own.

You blink. Shit! You quickly pull your arm away and push yourselves off them, trying to ignore the fact that your cheeks are heating up so badly they may as well be on fire. Thank God the mask hides your face, otherwise you’d never hear the end of it.

“Shall we do this again sometime?” Ortega grins. “Seeing how… reluctant you were to let go.”

“No,” you growl as you turn away.

“Awwwww come on. It’s good for training. You know how-”

“No!” you say, wincing at how high your voice sounds.

“Well then. I’d just have to sneak up on you again,” Ortega grins, a conspiratory grin on their face. “Since you can’t read my mind and all, and-”

“One more word,” you begin threateningly as you hold up a finger in warning, “and the public will come to know you as Sparkles.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that spreads on your face as they begin to sputter. They certainly look cute when they do that.

…

And you did  _not_  just think that.

But now you can’t help but think about their earnest face. Their stupid smile. The uncanny chemistry between the two of you. The sensation of their breaths against your own…

Shit. What have you gotten yourself into?


	2. Angst, Post-Heartbreak, Ortega!POV. The Cup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cup Sidestep gave Ortega is no longer at the Ranger’s base. What happened to it? 
> 
> Hints of n!Sidestep/n!Ortega. Set a few weeks after Heartbreak, with second perspective Ortega.

You thought that returning to the Ranger’s base was a good idea, but it turns out to be the worst decision you’ve ever made. Everywhere you look, you see them. Everywhere you look, you’re reminded of your failure. 

You see them leaning against the wall, their classic frown on their face. You see them staring into the fridge, scowling as they grumble about how you always eat all the food. You see them glaring at you, complaining that you take things too lightly as the both of you spar. You hear their snippy voice calling you  _‘Idiot’_ , making the intended insult sound more like a fond nickname in a way only they could.

You shake your head to clear the memories, and reach for the Cup they’d given you to make yourself some coffee. 

A part of you wants to blame what happens after on your exhaustion, fate, or even Chen— but in the end, you know you can only blame yourself. 

“Ortega?” Chen’s voice cuts into your thoughts suddenly. 

As distracted as you are, you accidentally scald yourself as the hot coffee pours over your hand. Your fingers release their grip involuntarily, and you watch as if in slow-motion as the Cup falls and shatters onto the ground. The puddle of spilt coffee grows and licks your feet, but you only have eyes for the fractured ceramic strewn all around. 

The Cup is broken. 

Broken, just like how Sidestep’s body would have been when it hit the ground. 

You fight the urge to throw up.

“I’m…sorry,” Chen says softly. “I didn’t mean…” his voice trails off as he searches for the right words to say. He knows how much the Cup means to you. 

“It’s fine, Wei,” you hear yourself reply as you take a cloth to wipe up the coffee. You see him hesitate in the doorway, and you know he is fighting an internal battle whether to come to you, or to leave you to your thoughts. 

You are relieved when he chooses the latter. 

When he vanishes from your line of sight, you exhale deeply as you stare at the ceramic fragments that litter the ground. Gingerly, you reach out with a shaking hand. As your fingers brush the broken ceramic, an unbidden memory assaults you, and you can hear their voice again as clear as day, as if their consciousness had somehow manifested itself in the broken pieces that lie scattered before you. 

……….

_“Wow…isn’t this the ‘limited-edition lightning-blue Ortega-inspired cup’ that was sold out everywhere hours after it came out? Where’d you get it?”_

_“I queued for it and bought it. Obviously.”_

_“May I ask why?”_

_“…because you needed a cup?”_

_“And you actually took the trouble to get this? I… don’t know what to say. Thank you, Sidestep. I’m really touched.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”_

_“See, I knew Steel was so wrong about you. You really_ do _care. I can’t wait to see his face when I tell-”_

 _“Breathe one word about this to him— or_ anyone _— and I’ll punch you in the face so hard you can’t use that cup even if you want to.”_

……….

The memory, so simple and yet so ordinary, hits you hard. The tears are flowing now, silently at first like hot beads of glass, but they soon transform into shudders and sobs that wrack your form. You feel your fingers close around the ceramic, their jagged edges digging into your palm, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

In the hours to come, you will pull yourself together. You will sweep the broken pieces up and store them in a bag. You will bring it out to the dumpster, but hesitate before you discard it all. Then, you will turn around and take it home instead, where you will spend hours using superglue to meld it back together. It takes a painstakingly long time, but when the deed is done, the Cup lives once more. 

In the years to come, you will keep it in your home where it remains closest to you, in the safest place it can be. Because while Sidestep never really was a part of the Ranger’s world, they are— and will always be— a part of yours.


	3. Romance, ChargeStep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea you were behind Keepers of Fairfort and now that I know I'm screaming!!! Anyways I did want to ask if you could possibly do a f!Ortega/Sidestep prompt. Angst, steamy, whatever you want!! I just want more Julia!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh wow thank you for the message! I’m really honoured to know that you like that story of mine, even though its just a demo :D Here’s hoping I can deliver on the rest of it :) 
> 
> And I’d be delighted to work on this prompt! I’ve written in second-perspective Sidestep, with protective!Sidestep and protective!Ortega. I hope this is up to your satisfaction!

_“Look out!”_

If you hadn’t been so exhausted, you would’ve sensed the attack long before an onlooker’s cry. But the fact is, you didn’t.

The two words are the only warning you have before a flash of crimson agony barrels into you. With a cry of pain and surprise, you are hurled to the side and you crash into a scaffold. A bright pain assaults your ribs as the heavy wood crashes onto you. You groan in pain and try to wiggle free, but it is simply too heavy. You bite back the fear that rises in you as the new villain calling themselves the Pyrobeast smirks widely, as they casually lift their flaming gun and aim it directly at you. 

_“Time to die, little hero.”_

They squeeze the trigger. As the beam darts toward you, you curse yourself for even thinking that it was a good idea to take on this bastard on without the Rangers help.

**_“No!”_ **

The single word echoes loudly even as a searing crimson ignites the air, and your eyes fly open to see the unmistakable figure of Ortega blur in front of you. As she takes the bolt meant for you directly in her chest.

Her sharp cry of agony makes your heart clench in inexplicable fear and horror, and you wince as she flies back and impacts the pavement hard. She groans and wraps an arm around her ribs, smoke rising from her prone form. 

The Pyrobeast is laughing again. You grit your teeth and try to lift the wood that pins you to the ground, but you can’t. It’s just too heavy…

“Foolish hero,” they sneer as they stalk towards Ortega, apparently having forgotten all about you. 

“Such  _selflessness_ ,” they taunt as they take a step further, and a lump forms in your throat when Ortega tries and fails to stand.

“Such  _nobility_ ,” they scoff as they raise their gun and take aim, and you can’t explain the immense terror that surges in you. If only you were stronger…

“Such an  _idiot_.”

And that’s when you snap.

**_“No one calls her that but me.”_ **

The growl escapes your throat even before your brain registers what the hell you just said, and before you even know what you’re doing, you rip away the heavy wood that pinned you to the ground and rush the damn bastard.

A deep sense of sadistic pleasure blooms within you as they turn around just in time for your fist to crash into their face, breaking their nose with a satisfying crunch. They stumble back with a surprised yelp, and you press your attack, your gloved fingers like sharp nails of iron striking at pressure points with vicious precision. You only stop when they’ve fallen onto the ground, wheezing and coughing. 

Leaving the incapacitated villain to the authorities, you head toward Ortega, who’s just getting back up to her feet. "Wow…“ she huffs a laugh when you reach her side. “I never knew you had such a protective streak.”

“You may be an idiot, but you’re  ** _my_**  idiot,” you say fiercely, the words tumbling from your lips before you can hold them back. Your cheeks begin to burn.  _Shit._ Did you really just say that?

Ortega stares at you, her mouth gaping like a fish for a long moment before a slow grin spreads across her face. “Awww, I knew you like me,” she teases.

You grunt in response. “Come on,“ you say as you punch her lightly in the shoulder. “You need to get patched up, old lady. And then you owe me dinner.”

Julia snorts. “Old…” she shakes her head and grins fondly. “Thank you for the save, Sidestep.” she says. “Dinner’s on me.”

“Thanks for saving me too,” you say, and a part of you is surprised to feel wistful that she can’t see your smile beneath the mask.

…….

Hours later, you’ll meet in the bar you both always frequent for a meal and drinks. Hours later, you’ll find that the distance between you and Julia has been reduced in some inexplicable way.

And days later, you will wonder when your brain decided to start referring to her as Julia instead of Ortega.


	4. Romance, SilverStep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fanfic for Eric_knight from the COG forums!
> 
> Prompt: Ahhh… fanfic, I want a pairing between Lady Argent and a my male MC. My MC is a mob boss who tried to be hero, that’s why he saved Lady argent from drowning in Book 1. I want to see Argent’s reaction when she knows Ortega’s friend is the villain she secretly admired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I captured Argent’s persona well, but I tried…

You’re on the bridge when Lady Argent appears. You’d been kicking the annoying Handyman’s butt again, complaining about how he hasn’t improved the slightest since your last altercation, when she swoops in to the rescue once more.

This time, she barely spares the Handyman a glance. Instead, she stalks towards you, a predatory grin on her face. She looks just as menacing as ever, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to kill you anymore.

“It’s been awhile since our last dance,” she says, and you can sense the unconcealed excitement singing in the tone of her voice. Huh. Does she really like you that much?

“I thought you hated dancing?” you reply casually. You can’t help but smile as you shift your stance and circle around her.

She does the same, her silvery eyes fixating on you. “I hate dance partners. They usually can’t keep up.”

“Like the dude over there?” you lift your head towards the Handyman, who’s just getting back onto his wobbly feet.

Argent scoffs. “Him? The only dance partner that he’ll attract are little old ladies.” You both ignore the noise of protest he makes at that.

She walks closer to you. “You, on the other hand…” she extends her hand and beckons you forward. “Shall we begin our dance?”

You mimic her action, feeling the grin spread across your face.. “You first, my Lady.”

She snorts. “I’m not  _your_  Lady. But I’ll be glad to oblige.”

She launches herself forward, and the fight begins in earnest.

…….

It’s an honest accident. All you know is that some construction company is going down for this when a flying kick from you sends her careening into the guard rail…

…only to have the rusty metal give way under the impact. You just have a moment to catch her expression of surprise before she topples over the edge. In an instant, you rush towards the spot she’d last been seen, just in time to spot her silvery form vanish beneath the frothy waves.

_“Did you see that?”_

_“She just went over!”_

_“Do you think she’s alright?”_

The explosion of chatters around you is grating on your nerves. They’re so annoying, those onlookers. They’re giving you a headache. You need to get away from them.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you stride towards the gaping hole Argent had left, ignoring the incredulous looks your henchmen are giving you, and dive down into the sea below.

The icy water hits you like a sledgehammer. For a moment, an unbidden panic attack rises in you as old memories take hold, but you bite them back fiercely.

You need to find her.

You need to find Angie.

Closing your eyes, you reach out with your mind, searching for any sign of her characteristic signature.

Right.

 _There_.

You swim towards it, your telepathy guiding you like a beacon. You ignore the surge of fear that rises in you, and strain your limbs to go faster when you realise she isn’t moving.

_Just a little closer…_

It takes what seems like an eternity, but your fingers finally brush her still form. Sliding your arms under her armpits, you kick fiercely for the light.

You break the surface with a loud gasp. Your suit’s internal air supply keeps you going as you head for the nearest shoreline; a thin slice of sand with no one in sight.

Slowly, you drag Argent’s still-unmoving form up the empty beach, ignoring the sand that seeps into your boots.

You lay her down, and a part of you panics even more when you realise she doesn’t seem to be breathing.

_Shit._

Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve yanked off your helmet and dropped to your knees as you lean over her, your hands reflexively intertwining as they hover over her chest.

“Come on,” you mutter to yourself. “Don’t tell me you’ll let a  _fall_  get the better of you.” You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know why you’re caring so much. You don’t know why you’ve even unmasked yourself.

You really  _are_  an idiot.

You pump her chest a few times, and lower your face to her own. You cup her chin with one hand, your lips just about to touch hers when her eyes fly open. Your eyes widen as she takes in your unmasked face.

_Shit shit shit…_

You stumble back in shock, hastily attempting to reattach your helmet. You can go into her mind to make her forget, of course. You can erase that memory. You can…

“You?” Argent’s voice cuts into your thoughts. She tackles you before you can think, her claws grasping your unprotected cheeks painfully as she glares into your eyes. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

The answer slips from your lips before you can think. “Because you like me.”

Her eyes widen at that. Obviously that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. You hold your breath as she stares at you silently. You can get her to dislodge you of course, but a part of you tells you that she won’t hurt you.

Indeed, she does not.

Her grip tightens for a moment before it relaxes. “This fight is over,” she says simply as she takes a step back. “As…an appreciation for saving me, I will not reveal your identity.” She spares you one last glance. “Don’t you dare follow me.”

Before you can reply, she rushes off, leaving you sitting in the sand.

You blink. Did you just scare here away? Now that’s a first.

You grunt as you rise to your feet. Well then. The fact that she knows who you are now is certainly an added complication, but somehow, you’re surprised to find that you don’t mind as much.

In fact, you’re looking forward to meeting her again in your civilian identity…

……….

Days later, she finds you when you’re standing in an alley. A few kids had come up to you for autographs, and you were more than happy to oblige. Then, they pale and scurry away when they see Argent stalk towards you.

You lean casually on the wall and await her approach.

“I see you have acquired quite the reputation,” she says. “Tell me. What should I do if I see you giving autograph to your fans again?”

“You can be our photographer,“ you instantly reply.

"I’d very much ratherbe _in_ the photo. There really aren’t many of us fighting out there…”

 "Alternatively, you can put on a wedding dress and I’ll ask then to take photograph of us together.“


	5. Angst, SilverStep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love your work! I haven't seen much Argent fics on tumblr yet, care to write an angsty one feat. Villain!MC? :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love <3 I’m really sorry this took awhile! I’m having a bout of health scares recently so it’s been taking away quite a fair bit of my mind space…
> 
> I’m not as familiar with Argent since she’s such a mysterious character, but I tried my best :) Subtle spoilers for Fallen Hero: Retribution. I used ‘Retribution’ as a placeholder for the MC’s villain name. I hope you like it!

You stare at the papers, at the image of yourself and Lady Argent emblazoned across the front page. You’re in the midst of dodging one of her many blows, the cameras catching the glint of her silver claw striking air inches from where you once stood. A smile pulls at your lips as you read the report that details your second confrontation with Lady Argent in explicit detail. Apparently, the media is as fascinated with Retribution’s relationship with Argent as you are with her.  
  
A small chuckle escapes you as you recall the sharp smile in Argent’s eyes as the both of you had fought. The growl she gave when you dared call her Angel.  
  
In hindsight, that  _really_  hadn’t been a good idea - not that you minded the increase in ferocity of the fight after that happened. Your smile widens as you recall the surge of exhilaration and that _something else as_  she snarled and leapt towards you. As you neatly sidestepped her blows. As the predatory grin lit up her face. At the way she had made you feel…

Wait.

Why the  _hell_ are you even thinking about this?

You are definitely an idiot for letting yourself feel the way you do for her. Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you let people in, knowing that they won’t stay if they ever knew the truth? Why do you do this when you know this game you’re playing will never end well for you?   
  
Because while Argent may seem to feel the same way you do, you know that it is only the mask she likes - not the real you.   
  
Because deep down, you know that no one ever will.


	6. What if Sidestep adopted a cat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Adventures of the Rangers and Sidestep’s cat, or the time Sidestep adopted a cat and the Rangers meet her for the first time.

 

Sidestep and Ortega

**Ortega:**  Sidestep? I thought I heard something. Are you o- 

* walks into Sidestep smiling as they cuddle a cat *

**Ortega:**!!!

**Sidestep:**  !!!

**Ortega:**  *a goofy grin spreading on their face as they produce a camera*

**Sidestep:**  Banish whatever you’re thinking or she’ll fill your apartment with hairballs.

* * *

 

Sidestep and Steel

*Sidestep stroking the cat in the Ranger’s base*

*The cat hisses at Steel as he walks past them*

**Steel:**  …Did I do something wrong?

**Sidestep:** Don’t worry about it. She just doesn’t like assholes.

**Steel:**  I see…

…

…

**Steel:**  Now hold on just a minute -

* * *

 

Sidestep and Herald

**Herald:** Can I pet her?

**Sidestep:** No.

**Herald:**  Can I pet her?

**Sidestep:**  No.

**Herald:**  Can I pet her?

**Sidestep:**  NO!

**Herald:**  :( okay.

…

**Herald:**  Can I pet her?

**Sidestep:** OH  _FINE_  if you really want to. But I warn you, you won’t like-

**Herald:**  YES!! *reaches out enthusiastically*

\- after a moment -

**Herald:** OWWW she scratched me!

**Sidestep:** I won’t say ‘I told you so’.

* * *

Sidestep and Argent

**Argent:** I do not find cats 'cute’. They are abhorrent, they are jerks, and they get hair everywhere. I will throw the next cat I see up into a tree and leave it there.

*Sidestep walks in with their cat in hand*

**Argent:** … but not that one. I like that one.

* * *

Bonus! Sidestep, after a nightmare

The cat slides up to them and curls up upon their chest, meowing softly as their body trembles violently with sobs. After a moment, Sidestep reaches out. She patiently waits ad their shaking hands enclose her form. As they hug her closely, she lets out a loud purr and headbutts them gently. They chuckle softly at that, stroking her hair with a small smile.

They don’t notice when they fall asleep. They don’t notice that her paws are resting against their bare skin.

But they do notice that for that night, the nightmares do not return.


	7. Angst, Steel!POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I just want to say I really liked the "Post-Heartbreak fanfic, Steel". 😃 If you are still accepting requests. How about Steel POV, after the rangers reunion with n!Sidestep in Chapter 3 from Rebirth? When Sidestep leaves, Steel starts to felling guilty. Actually he expected Sidestep to mess up at some point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I’m glad you like that! I have wayyyy too much angst, so it spills over into my fics. Heh. This one will be an angsty one too! I hope you like it!
> 
> I’m sorry this took so long as I was busy the past week and had spotty WiFi. I’ll be getting to the other prompts soon!

_“You made it hard to feel home.”_

_“It never was.”_

_“And you went all out to show how it could never be.”_

The bitterness in their voice catches you off guard, as does the naked sense of resignation in their eyes. As does the odd ball of guilt that blooms in the pits of your stomach when you realise just how haunted they look. Despite how much younger they are than you, the look in their eyes makes them appear so much older. All you can sense is an overwhelming tiredness and brokenness, so unlike the resolute steadfastness in the Sidestep of times long past.

As you watch them walk away, you turn to see Lady Argent talking quietly with Ortega. Aside from the typical grouchy expression on her face, she looks completely fine. Obviously Sidestep didn’t do anything to her.

_But why did you expect them to?_

You wince a little as you recall the frosty, guarded look they’d given you, so unlike the more hesitant smile they wore on their faces when they had addressed Ortega and Herald. Did you really give them the impression that they could not trust you? That you never accepted them and you never will?

_But wasn’t that what you did?_

Years ago, you had reminded them that they never would be a part of the Rangers. You had openly expressed your dissent at their presence in battles, even in front of the media. You had gone all out to ensure that their presence in the Rangers headquarters, while tolerated, was not welcome. You had never offered them any form of praise or aid, no matter how many times their actions have earned them many times over. You had blatantly told them that you did not trust them, that any mistake on their part would have the government come down on their heads because mess-ups aren’t to be tolerated. It was an overly-harsh sentiment, and you knew it. They did to. But instead of arguing, they had given you a simple ‘understood’ at that, and nothing more.

And yet, despite your treatment of them, they still did their best. They still served by the Rangers side. They still fought and bled for all of you. Of course, there were times they messed up. And you had been all-too glad to rub it in their face. But haven’t you messed up before too? Haven’t the Rangers? Hasn’t  _everyone_ , at some point of time in life? For the life of you, you don’t know why you couldn’t at least give them even a single iota of trust, friendship, or concern. Because if you are to be honest with yourself, they did deserve that, and more.

Hell, your last words to them before they vanished for seven years was to tell them that they weren’t a Ranger. As if they needed another reminder of a fact you’d constantly thrown in their face.

_And look how that turned out. They didn’t mess up, did they?_

As hard as it is to admit (and why it is so, you realise you don’t know), they did not. Hell, rather than messing up, they might have been the reason the day was saved that day. Because they might have been the reason why the mental assault stopped long enough for the bombs to be activated. And then they had fallen, and then you were all told that they were dead, and you never got the chance to show some appreciation for what they had done…

_So now that they’re back, why aren’t you?_

You can’t find an answer. You still don’t trust them, that much you are aware, because you don’t like mysteries. But it’s been seven years now, and it’s a second chance you know you should not let go. Because perhaps they do deserve to know that while they may not have been a Ranger, they had been an asset. Perhaps this time, you can get to know them better. Perhaps you can finally apologise for how you treated them in the past.

With how much distance Sidestep has placed between you and themselves, you know it isn’t going to be easy. But perhaps, all you can do is to offer an olive branch and hope that it isn’t seven years too late.


	8. Angst. Post-Heartbreak, Steel!POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Steel deal with Sidestep’s death after Heartbreak? Second- perspective guilty!Steel.

Days after Heartbreak, Los Diablos still weeps. The sky continues to pour, as if mourning the loss of Anathema, of Sidestep. There have been so many eulogies, so many tributes. So many flowers, tears and hugs, freely given in the name of the fallen.

You had expected that for Anathema, of course. But never did you expect that for Sidestep. Indeed, you’re almost taken aback by just how well-loved they were. Just how many people grieve their death. Already, you hear talks of how the mayor is pledging to build a memorial in their name. How stores are selling out of hoodies made in their honour. How Sidestep action figures are flying off the shelves. Even the Internet is flooded with an outpouring of stories shared by those whose lives they have touched. 

Have they truly been such a hero? Or have you simply been too blind to see it?

You realise you don’t know. And now, you probably never will. You sigh as you rise to your feet. You need a walk to clear your head.

……..

Perhaps you should have expected it, but walking as aimlessly as you are, your feet lead you to Sidestep’s grave. You stare at their marker, an inexplicable noose tightening around your heart as your eyes flicker to their picture. As you realise just how small and young they look. If you had learned to trust them, would this have been their fate? If you had just  _tried_  to get to know them, would they be still alive?

You swallow as you rest a hand upon their gravestone, lowering your head respectfully as you trace the epitaph that marks the life they had lived, that captures all that they were, that promises all that they will be reminded by.

There, alone and surrounded by the scent of fresh flowers and the tears that melt into the rain, you read the words that speak a truth you wish they were alive to know:

‘SIDESTEP’, the silvery text gleams, ‘a Ranger in all but name’.


	9. Fluff. SteelStep. Just a normal walk in the park. Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I blame the Discord for this xD
> 
> Sidestep POV, fluff with hints of Steel/Sidestep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steel, Sidestep, Spoon, and a squirrel. What can possibly go wrong?

You inhale deeply as the scent of blooming flowers washes over you. By your side, you can sense the steady strength of a now-familiar presence, and the bundle of furry joy that’s equal parts overjoyed and excited to see you.

It still amazes you how things have turned out. If someone had told you, months ago, that you’d be walking with Steel and his dog in the park, you’d have laughed in their face. A part of you still can’t believe it either. Of course, it happened only after he was finally convinced that you were not going to kidnap his dog but you still can’t believe how close you two have grown. That today, he’s actually allowing you to walk Spoon.

A part of you blatantly ignores the quickening of his heartbeat (and yours), and the flush he’s trying so hard to conceal when his fingers brush against your own as he hands you the leash. You certainly don’t understand why the hell he’s feeling that way.

~~Or maybe you do and you just don’t want to admit it.~~

Regardless, it’s a fine day for a walk and the dog park is just as therapeutic as ever. So as much as it surprises you that you’re actually doing this around  _Steel_ , you lower your shields and allow yourself to relax.

That’s your first mistake.

You don’t notice when a squirrel bounds a little too close until it’s too late. A cheerful bark is your only warning before Spoon gives an excited yip and tears off after the stupid critter. The leash is almost yanked out of your grasp but you tighten your hold, determined not to let go because you certainly  _aren’t_  going to waste your energy chasing after Steel’s dog.

That’s your second mistake.

Steel is yelling for Spoon to sit but of course he doesn’t listen. Everyone knows all dogs go mad over squirrels, but shit  _shit_   _ **shit**_ why the hell is that damn squirrel running in circles around you? And Spoon is… Spoon is…

“Shit,” you groan as you feel the leash loop round and round your legs. You try reaching out to calm him but you can barely penetrate the whirlwind of joy and excitement that is Spoon’s mind. 

Shit. 

You need to get out of this mess and soon, but you can’t figure out  _how_  - and then, it’s too late. The leash pulls taut and you fall. 

Right onto Steel.

“Shit,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks heat up fiercely as your face presses into the middle of his warm chest. Turning to the side, you shoot Spoon a look of betrayal because, really, is this how he repays your cuddles?

Spoon just stares back at you with an innocent grin.

Sighing, you try to kick your legs free and push yourself off Steel, but Spoon isn’t having any of that. You swear, that over-excited dog must be some sort of secret telepath conspiring with that crazy squirrel because it darts to the side once more, and you barely have a moment to moan a resigned “shit” before Spoon gives a happy bark and the chase resumes.

The leash winds around your legs  _again_  and for the second time since the ordeal (yes, that must be it, that’s why you’re feeling so flustered), you lose your balance and fall further into Steel’s broad chest.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble. Why does your voice sound so high? And why the hell is your heart beating so fast? You certainly aren’t panicking. Of course not. It’s just that you can’t believe that it’s a  _dog_  that got the better of you, that you’re actually lying on  _Chen_ …

That his chest actually feels really nice and warm and comfortable, and… and…

Oh shit. You did  _not_  just think that, what the hell is wrong with you? Where did that come from and when the hell did Steel become  _Chen_? 

You groan. If your legs weren’t tied up you’d kick yourself, because you’re an idiot. You’re a stupid idiot, a bigger idiot than Ortega and that’s saying a lot. You’re supposed to hate him; you should want nothing more than to punch that grumpy asshole, but now you want to… you want to…

You want him to… hold you?

Swallowing thickly, you glance up and your heart skips a beat when you realize that Chen is just as red as you probably are. Hesitantly, you reach out with your mind (and no, you certainly  _aren’t_  hoping that he will feel as flustered as you), and you detect the suppressed panic and desire as he stares back at you.

Well. Shit.

It’s probably just your imagination that he’s making no move to untangle the hot mess you both have gotten yourselves into. It’s probably just your imagination that you really don’t mind at all. It’s probably just your imagination that he’s actually pulling you closer…

And it’s really,  _really_  probably just your imagination that Spoon is looking more smug than usual…


	10. Romance. MortumStep. Protective!Mortum.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mortum needs more love, so how about some Mortum/sidestep (or puppet) fluff or Maybe something involving Mortum saving them. Genders can be whatever your comfortable with!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned into a kinda (hinted) Mortum/Puppet romance? I used n! for both genders, and ‘E’ as a placeholder for the puppet’s name. It isn’t so much of ‘saving’ but more of protective!Mortum caring for an injured puppet. I hope that’s okay! :)

“Mon chéri! Whatever happened to you?” Mortum cries out when you stride into the room.

“Nothing,” you offer a smile, wincing when your lips pull at the cuts and bruises on your cheek. You’re sure your ribs are bruised as well – not that they have to know that.

“It most certainly isn’t  _nothing_ ,” Mortum chides. Rising from their seat, they pace over to you – or rather, to E – and narrows their gaze as they take in the injuries on your face. Their eyes narrow further when they noticed your hunched position. “What happened?”

You shrug and look away. “Ran into some muggers,” you mutter quietly. It wasn’t supposed to happen; you weren’t supposed to get jumped. But as headblind as you are in E’s body, it did. Of course, your training in boxing sent the three men running after a brief fight, but not before they got in some lucky blows to your face and chest.

As you complete your tale, you look up at Mortum. You’re almost taken aback by the dark and stormy look in their eyes. “Three men, you say?” they remark. Though their voice remains calm and casual, you can detect the unmasked threat laced within those words. “I assume you remember how they look?”

“Of course,” you reply as you give them a light grin. “Even if I did not, I’m sure my boss will be able to find them easily enough.”

“Ahh, your mysterious boss,” Mortum smiles. “I may not like their…unorthodox methods, but for this, I’m sure we can work together.”

“A partnership?”

“A brief alliance, if that’s what you wish to call it.”

“I thought you didn’t like them.”

“For you, I can make an exception.”

You bark out a laugh, trying to ignore how those words make your heart flutter. “Why me?”

“You’re my friend, and you’re hurt,” their voice softens, laced with concern. “That’s more than enough of a reason, is it not?” Something in their tone tells you that there is another reason to it – one that your racing heart knows very well.

“But I’m alright,” you say. “I’m fine.”

“You most certainly are  _not_ fine, mon chéri.” Mortum sighs. “At least let me treat those wounds for you?”

You open your mouth to argue, but eventually settle for nodding instead. Satisfied, Mortum steps over to their shelf and procures a first-aid kit. Deftly unlatching the box, they proceed to soak a cotton ball in antiseptic solution, before gently patting it against your cheek. A light hiss escapes you at the contact, to which Mortum withdraws slightly and murmurs a quiet apology.

As they continue to clean your wounds with a gentleness that is all too palpable even without your telepathy, you try to ignore the way your heartbeat quickens at their touch. The way your thoughts are so enraptured by a certain doctor.

And even without your telepathy, you know they feel the same for you.


	11. Angst. Post-Heartbreak 2, Steel!POV. Regrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilty!Steel POV, angst. What motivated Steel to investigate Heartbreak?

You should have asked. You should have asked, then maybe it wouldn’t have happened.

The first time it does was the first time you saw them in action. Sure, you’ve heard countless stories about their exploits from Ortega, but you’ve never actually seen them before. Until now.

It had been a raging fire at one of those old apartment blocks, and when you arrived, you found out you were not the first - a certain hooded figure had already evacuated every resident in the building.

From the whispered words of awe around you, you learnt that they had repeatedly run into the smoke-filled building, each time emerging with one or two civilians in tow. You learnt that they refused to stop until everyone was out. You learnt that they had single-handed saved the lives of thirty five people that day.

But you didn’t know that they were having trouble breathing beneath the mask. That if they had opened their mouths to speak their voice would be much hoarser than it should have been. So when they turned to you, eyes unreadable beneath the hood, you didn’t ask. Because those who hid behind a mask were those with malevolent intents they wanted to hide.

Right?

____

The second time it happens, it was a mission that was shot to hell. It all started off ordinarily enough; a deluded man, distressed from the loss of his job and savings, had barricaded himself in a bank together with twenty terrified people. Armed with a shotgun, he had screamed for the Rangers and the swarming officers to back off or he will shoot every single hostage dead. He did not respond to Ortega’s desperate pleas, nor to Anathema’s gentle reasoning, nor to your thinly-veiled threats and concessions.

They are the one to finally get through to him.

You had watched as they slowly approached the bank, arms raised calmly in the air. As they told them, in a soft and soothing voice, that they just wanted to chat. Through the communication channel, you heard as they talked with the man. As he began to cry when they promised to help his struggling family, as they managed to convince him to let the hostages go. As they told him that they believed he was a good person and didn’t really want to hurt anyone, that he was just hurting inside in a way no one could understand.

Once the hostages came running out, some crying and others laughing in hysterical relief, they had gently taken the shotgun away from the man and quietly led him out of the bank.

Then, a trigger-happy officer had squeezed off a single shot.

One moment, he was standing beside them, expression resigned yet hopeful, saddened yet relieved. The next, he was crumpling against their chest, fingers limp and eyes unseeing, a growing patch of red upon his chest.

You had watched as they laid the man on the ground, movements too stiff and eyes too wide. You had watched as Ortega and Anathema moved up to them, demanding for a reason why the shot was deemed necessary while telling them that the death was not their fault. You listened as they replied, with voice too tight, that it certainly was.

And it  _was_  their fault, wasn’t it? It was their mistake that allowed the man to die, because wasn’t that what telepathy was supposed to prevent?

So you ignored the way their fists turned white as they gripped the papers reporting their failure with a sadistic glee. The way they disappeared for a few days, uncontactable and unreachable. Their gaunt expression when you saw them at the man’s family’s doorstep, as they passed them a package you now knew contained a sum of money meant for three months of their rent, and the child’s first three years of school.

And you didn’t ask.

____

The third time it happens was the time they saved your life. It was an ambush, one you still curse yourself for getting into, and before you knew it you had been kicked down, the wind knocked out of you and an energy rifle charged and aimed at your head.

Then suddenly they had come swooping in, taking the shot meant for you before dispatching the villains that kept you pinned after a brief struggle.

You swear you didn’t know that they were hiding the fact that their ribs were broken. You swear you didn’t know that the shot had left them with a burn that required urgent medical attention. You swear you didn’t.

Because they looked fine, and they said they were fine. Because they weren’t a Ranger and they weren’t entitled to medical care. Because they were a vigilante hiding from the government and that meant they weren’t to be trusted.

So you didn’t ask. Again.

____

The fourth time it happens was the time they saved Ortega. You had seen them as they came limping into the Rangers base, their weight all but completely supported by Ortega. You had watched as Ortega hovered around them, eyes alight with worry and concern. You had watched as they conceded to ‘borrowing’ some bandages and painkillers (something they never did before), as they adamantly refused anything else.

Perhaps, when they limped past you, visibly in pain and avoiding putting weight on their injured leg, you should’ve asked. Because weren’t they a familiar face now? Sure, you weren’t friends (you probably never would be) but weren’t you, at the very least, allies?

____

The fifth time it happens was the day they saved everyone. You were there as they held those nanovores in place, as their nose bled and their knees buckled in visible strain at the exertion. As they all but collapsed when the threat was finally contained. As they once again refused medical aid for reasons you don’t know and now will never know.

A part of you wonders why you didn’t ask then. Because hadn’t they well and truly proven themselves to be a hero? From the way they had dashed into that burning building, never stopping until all were safe? From the way they still blame themselves for that man’s unfortunate death? From the way they would put the safety of others above their own? From the way they would care for those abandoned mutts in the dog park and help them all find a home?

But your hand had frozen in the air inches away from their shoulder, never reaching out to touch them in the way you should have all those years ago.

And just as you always have before, you didn’t ask.

____

The last time it happens, you didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. A large part of you still regrets not looking out for them, for dismissing their fierce willingness to be there despite the dangers, for doubting their intents for the sixth and final time.

You know you’ll never forget the heart- breaking sound of Ortega’s scream. The heart- stopping echo of shattering glass. The heart- wrenching sight of a broken window and an empty space where they should have been.

Numb for days, you would not feel the gaping hole they had left. Not when Ortega turns to you, eyes red-rimmed and swollen and so unlike the confident Marshal you have always known. Not when the eulogies are read and the crowds gather with silent candles in hand. Not when the empty coffin is lowered into the grave and white roses are laid atop the cold, gleaming stone.

But when it all dies down and you find yourself alone in the Rangers base, your eyes will fall upon the stupid mug they had given Ortega. And on a paper by its side, you will see the scrawled measurements in Ortega’s handwriting, detailing the dimensions for a blue-and-white suit for a certain hero who had proven themselves worthy of the title and more.

And finally, you realize that you should’ve asked. You should’ve asked if they were alright the first, second, third, fourth and fifth time they were hurt, shaken or both.

For now, it’s far too late to tell them you do respect their skills and heart as a hero, that you do consider them as one of your own. It’s far too late to show that you care.

But for all your regrets, you know it isn’t too late for everything.

So you begin your quest to unravel the mystery of Heartbreak. Because you don’t like things you don’t understand, and because they deserve that much. Because it’s the only thing you can do.

And perhaps, if and when you find the answer as to what truly happened that fateful day, you will find it in you to forgive yourself.


	12. Denial. Sidestep!POV. Reveal gone wrong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidestep gathers the courage to reveal the truth - but things don’t go as planned.
> 
> Sidestep!POV, angst. Heavy spoilers with a callback to one of my first FH fics!
> 
>  
> 
> Shout out to Reikor (auroriane) from the discord for beta reading this :)

As you stand before the Ranger’s base, you find yourself hesitating. Subconsciously, you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater, the soft material providing little comfort to your racing heart.

Of course, you’ve every reason to be afraid today. Because today, you’ve decided to tell them the truth. 

Today, they’ll find out just exactly who – or  _what –_  you are.

Your decision to reveal the truth hadn’t come easy. Hell, six months ago, you would have never even considered such a development. But as impossible as it had been, you realized that they care for you, that they worry for you… and all of this is undoubtedly, infinitely true. No manipulations, no hidden agendas. Just a pure, simple concern that you’ve always wished for, but have long been denied.

Steel told you that he had looked for you, and that had sent a flutter of  _something_  ripple through you. Ortega had hugged you,  _loved_  you, even. They had invited you to their house, and there you had seen the rows of Sidestep action figures they’d kept on a shelf by their bed… the cup that you’d given them, nestled in a glass casing as if it were something so precious to them…

That day, it took all your willpower to blink the tears from your eyes.

Slowly, as impossible as it had been, they were breaking down the walls you had put up around yourself. You found yourself laughing more whenever you were with Ortega. You found yourself smiling whenever you meet Steel at the dog park with Spoon. You found yourself trusting them. liking them… seeing them as friends.

And that’s why you’re here today.

Because you’re tired of hiding, of lying. And because, against all odds, you believe they will understand. They will help you. Because you’re friends, and that’s what friends do. Right?

Taking a deep breath, you walk into the hall, nodding in greeting at the receptionist as she waves back at you. She gestures to a meeting room at the end of the corridor. “They’re in there,” she says with a smile. Thanking her, you make your way for the room, your pulse increasing with every step.

 _‘They will understand,’_  you tell yourself.  _'They will understand.’_  It’s a mantra you chant to yourself as you stride closer to the door.

Just as you’re about to push it open, Steel’s frustrated voice reaches you. “Those protesters are getting ridiculous. Do they even know what they’re asking for?”

For some reason you don’t know, your hand freezes on the doorknob. “I’m with you on that, Wei.” Ortega’s voice replies, disapproval clear in the tone of their voice. “It’s absurd how some people actually think this way.”

“At least it’s a minority that thinks those freaks deserve rights,” Steel answers, the disgust in his tone all too apparent even without your telepathy.

Ice creeps upon your heart as an inkling of what they’re talking about dawns on you.  _'This can’t be happening… this can’t be happening…’_

You almost run off there and then, but as if hoping,  _needing_ to hear them brush it off as some sick, terrible joke despite knowing deep down that this nightmare is real, your feet stay glued to the ground.

“But they’re an increasingly vocal minority.” Ortega sighs. “Honestly though, can’t they just accept that those things can never be real?”

“Yeah… I mean…. who would even think  _regenes_  can ever be human?”

You almost sob aloud at those words, and you don’t notice that you’ve clenched your fists so tight that your nails are digging deep and drawing blood. The pain in your chest increases. You can feel the familiar rise of panic, the sensation of heartbreak, fear, loss and screams and death and glass cutting into your skin-

no  _No **NO**_  don’t go back there-

_falling, falling and dying-_

_the thrum of machinery, incisions on bare skin… restrains upon wrists and ankles and pain, pain, endless, endless **indescribable PAIN-**_

You stumble back, and it takes all your willpower to withhold the cries that threaten to overwhelm you.

_I was foolish to believe I could ever have friends._

_I was foolish to believe this could ever be real._

You spin around, ignoring the pinpricks that sting your eyes.

With your training in stealth, it’s easy enough to move out unnoticed by them as you flee down the corridor and into the hall. The receptionist glances up at you in surprise as you stride past, but it’s easy enough to erase any memory that you’ve ever been there.

And as you burst out into the open where you realize a storm had begun to brew, it’s easy enough to pretend that the wetness on your face is only because of the rain.


	13. Romance. SteelStep. Smiles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Steel tries to make Sidestep smile, or how Steel realizes he is slowly falling deeply in love.
> 
> Steel/Sidestep. Steel!POV. Spoilers!
> 
> Thanks @auroriane for beta-reading! :)

**0.**

Seven years ago, they fell.

You never see them again.

Then one day, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, they reappear. And when you realize just how shattered they feel, you find that nothing’s right in your world.

**1.**

They’re a wreck, eyes dark-rimmed and exhausted. They’re looking at the dogs, expression far away, stance hunched, small and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen them before.

_Fear. Misery. Desperation. Pain._

Spoon whines; he too senses something is wrong. You pace forward hesitantly, expecting them to react and shy away from you but they remain frozen; it’s never happened before.

You don’t know why that makes your heart clench painfully.

So, you reach out for them. Maybe you’re worried. Maybe it’s just the guilt.  ~~Or maybe it’s something more.~~

They turn to you and you see their eyes… eyes so haunted it makes them look much older than they really are.

Your heart tightens.

Then, loving, tender-hearted Spoon jumps up and licks their face, yipping joyfully and covering them in slobber. You see their momentary surprise, the flash of a smile on their face before it’s blown away in the wind.

You find yourself wishing to see them smile again.

**2.**

You meet them one afternoon as you’re walking Spoon. He must remember who they are for he barks happily, pulls the leash out of your hands, and dashes forward.

You almost miss the tiny smile on their face at his furiously wagging tail. Their soft laugh as he rolls onto his back and exposes his belly in its full, furry glory.

You find yourself chuckling as they reach out and give him a rub. But when they (reluctantly) disengage and wave goodbye, you see the smile falter and fall.

And you find yourself promising to bring those smiles back again.

**3.**

One day, they corner you in the Ranger’s base. They look particularly miserable; their vulnerability and exhaustion radiate strongly in waves.

_Sadness. Despair. Regret. Pain._

What they speak, their words are halting. They ask if you could go to the dog park. If you could bring Spoon.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed they didn’t just ask for you. But still, you barely hesitate before you agree.  ~~You don’t know the reason why.~~

By the time you arrive, they’re there by the tree. They turn to you and you sense their immediate relief when they spot Spoon.

You watch as they collapse to their knees and envelop him in a hug. Spoon whines, leans in, and nuzzles their cheek. You see the watery smile upon their face, and you find yourself wishing that it was you they chose to hold.

And when you realize with a start that their smile has never reached their eyes before, you find yourself vowing to make them truly smile.

**4.**

You ask them out one day, if they’d like to walk Spoon with you. Yet, as shocked as you are by your own words, it’s more than made up for by the surprise that lights up their face.

_Wonder. Gratitude. Relief. Hope._

“I’d like that very much,” they say, their tentative smile sending your heart aflutter.

It’s the first time you’ve made them smile. You hope it will not be the last.

**5.**

You see them more often now. They feel lighter. Less burdened.

On one of your walks (without Spoon), you find them unconsciously drifting closer to you. And as you gently brush your hands against their knuckles and slip your fingers into their own, you see a tiny smile form upon their lips.

But still, it doesn’t quite reach their eyes.

**6.**

You’re with them one night, staring off into the ocean. They’re sitting beside you; they’re close, _so very close._

“Why do you want to be with me?” they ask quietly.

“Because I care about you,” you say.

They smile, though it’s a sad, bitter one. "Why do you care for something that isn’t real?”

You interlace your fingers with their own, trying to ignore the brokenness in their voice. “You’re here. You’re real. This  _is_  real.”

They pull away. They don’t meet your gaze. “I… you should leave, Chen. Go back to Ortega. Go back to your team.” Their voice is small. Exhausted.

_Pain. Despair. Loneliness. Resignation._

Your heart stutters at that. Taking their chin in your hands, you gently turn them to face you. “Why would I when you’re the only one I need?”

You glimpse a flicker of  _something_  in their eyes, but as fleeting as the sun on a cold winter’s day, it fades away.

**7.**

"Wei? Can I ask you something?”

They’re at your apartment. Their eyes dart nervously back and forth, their hands fiddling with their sweater. They look worried. Stressed. Afraid.

Is someone after them?

You rise to your feet, the unspoken question on your lips but they shake their head.

“No, I’m fine. it’s just…” They take a deep breath and lick their lips. “If… if I’m not really what you think I am… will you still care?”

The question takes you by surprise, but your reply comes easily; the words are heartfelt after all: “I always will.”

You hear their sniffle, sense the desperation in their eyes. “Really?”

_Hope. Uncertainty. Longing. Fear._

Their wretched voice tears at your heartstrings. Nodding firmly, you place an arm around their shoulder. “Whatever it is… you will always be  _you_. Nothing will change that.”  _Nothing will change how I feel for you._

It makes them smile briefly, though it vanishes all too soon as their growing fear returns.

“Then…there’s something I need to show you.”

**8.**

They remove their sweater. They remove their shirt.

And for the first time, you see them for who they really are. You see the secrets they’ve hidden for all their life.

Your attention is drawn first to the scars –  _and there are just so many, far too many; oh, just what horrors have they suffered?_  – before your eyes land on the orange tattoos that mark every inch of their body.

You swallow hard.

You know those colours. You know those designs.

_They’re… they’re a regene._

And finally, everything falls into place. Finally, you understand why they avoided cameras and hospitals like the plague. Why they refused to submit to those background checks. Why they wore layers upon layers in the dreadful heat of the sun… Why they never could bring themself to smile…

You see them begin to tremble at your extended silence.

_Self-loathing. Disgust. Pain. Fear._

Swiftly, you step forward and envelop them in a fierce hug, rubbing tiny circles onto their back. “I know how hard this must be for you… but know this: regardless of where you were from, you’ve the biggest heart I’ve ever known. You’re human in every sense of the term, and don’t you  _dare_  think otherwise.”

You feel them crumple. You feel them wrap their arms tightly around you, tears soaking deep into your thin shirt. You hold them close and refuse to let go;  _you never will again._

“Thank you,” they say hoarsely.

You’d like to think they smiled then, but you can’t tell from the tears in your eyes.

**9.**

“Do you really think this will work?” they whisper. “Sometimes… sometimes I look at you and the only thing I recall are the times you didn’t trust me.”

Your blood freezes over; you had feared this would happen.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” you reply softly. “Seven years ago, … I’m sorry for failing to trust you… to save you… to find you.”

Your eyes are watering now, but the words continue to tumble forth like a raging river, unimpeded and untamed. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realize how foolish I have been, for never considering why you needed to hide. And… and if staying away is better for you… if this apology is seven years too late-”

Your throat locks up;  _please, please I don’t want you to leave. But if this is what will help you heal_ …You choke down the bile and force yourself to continue.

“-then…then I’ll let you go.”

You lower your gaze, close your eyes, and wait.

…

…

You feel them take your hands into their own. You feel their fingers find you chin. And when you open your eyes, you see their sincere, tear-filled eyes gazing deep into yours.

“It isn’t too late,” they say. “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.”

You choke out a sob. There’s so much you wish to say, so much you wish for them to know. You want to tell them they’re the most courageous, empathetic and compassionate person you have ever known. You want to thank them for forgiving you, for accepting you, for loving you. You want to promise to never leave them, to be there by their side forevermore.

But in the end, you simply say the three words that matter most, the three words that encompass all that you promise and feel.

_“I love you.”_

And, finally, finally, you see them truly smile.

It’s a genuine, beautiful smile, and it’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen.

_Faith. Hope. Joy. Love._

And finally, at long last, all is right in your world.


	14. Romance. FlyStep. Oh no, it's hot!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly FlyStep drabble. I have no idea where this came from xD
> 
> Thanks @auroriane for being an awesome beta as always! Any remaining mistakes you see are my own.

You groan as you lie on the floor beside Herald, breathing hard as you feel the sweat trickle down your back.

Herald was learning fast, and it was showing. He had countered almost every one of your attacks, striking through your defenses to leave bruises that will surely show upon your skin tomorrow. It had taken you much longer to catch him at a vulnerable moment, before you were finally above to flip him over in a classic throw.

The both of you had crashed to the ground in a heap, and there you lay, red faced and breathing hard, trying very hard not to notice your racing heartbeat - and just how close the both of you are.

After a moment, you give an awkward cough and roll off him. “Shit, it’s hot,” you mutter in a weak attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah… you’re hot,” Herald replies dreamily before his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s saying. “Uh I mean you look hot! Uh, shit no, I mean,” he rambles, his cheeks heating up to an impressive shade of red. “I mean you look like you’re hot because it’s hot so you’ll have to be!” He pauses for a moment. “But I’m not saying you aren’t hot! Because you are! It’s just I’m talking about the weather and not hotness and…” He groans and buries his head in his hands as he realizes he’s digging an even deeper hole for himself.

Chuckling softly, you find yourself idly wondering how you once thought you should hate him. On a whim, you lean in close and punch him in the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I think you’re hot too,” you whisper.

The burst of attraction, surprise and delight that reminds you very much of a golden retriever finding a new chew toy almost staggers you, his accompanying smile more than enough to bring out one of your own.


	15. Angst. “Do you even know what you've done to me?” ChargeStep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you even know what you've done to me?” For your choice of pairing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Heartbreak. Ortega visits Sidestep’s grave and reflects upon words that should have been said.
> 
> ChargeStep.

“Do you even know what you’ve done to me?” you ask quietly as you look at their photo. They’re so young;  _so very young_.

“I guess I should let you know that I’m retiring as Marshal tomorrow. Because I can’t do this anymore. I messed up at Heartbreak, and I messed up again at your funeral when I punched that guy out.” You force out a laugh, though it’s a cold, bitter sound. “Former Marshal Charge, now a mess-up and a drunkard. The media will have such a field day.”

You trace a finger along their photo and sigh heavily. “You know…every night,  _every night_ , I see you fall. You’re just there in front of me, and…” your breath escapes through a shuddering sob. “You’re pleading me for help, and I try so hard to but I can never reach you, and then you… you…”

A sudden wave of hysterical distress engulfs you. “It wasn’t supposed to happen; it never was supposed to end this way!” The broken words fall from your lips, only to be lost in the silence of the wind. “Why did you leave me? Why?” you continue in a softer whisper.

The rustling of the leaves is your only answer.

A hoarse laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “But who am I kidding? It isn’t your fault for being there; it’s mine for not doing more to keep you away… for not telling you how you made me feel.” You chuckle once more, though there’s no joy in the sound. “I mean, I did try to ask you out after the whole Psychopathor fiasco, but it isn’t the same, you know? It’s just….I wish I told you how I feel about you. I really wish I did.”

You fall silent for a moment as you lay the bouquet of white roses upon the gravestone, taking a deep breath before you continue. “Wei tells me I have to move on, that I can’t let myself wallow in such a state and… I guess he’s right. So that’s why I’m here now. Because I’ve got some things to say. I should’ve said them when you were here, but… I guess this will have to do.”

Resting a hand upon the stone, you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes once more. “I want you to know that I really care -  _cared_ for you. You made me feel in ways I never felt before. And I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you so much. And…and… ”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as the tears begin to fall. “I love you, I really, truly do. I’d give anything,  _anything_  to see you again, to hear you call me idiot again… for you to know that I love you. So,  _so_  much.”

Your faltering voice trails off into a choked sob; your throat closes up and you find you can say no more. So you turn you head to the skies where the sun’s final rays are vanishing beneath the clouds, and you pray for a sign that your message has been heard.

It never comes.


End file.
